INT. SAFEHOUSE – NIGHT
Candles flicker against cracked walls. Families huddle close, murmuring prayers or whispering fears. Arven sits apart in the corner, face pale, eyes dark. A plate of untouched food sits before him.
Narration: Another week passes. Arven grows cold—no laughter, no tears. His family worries, speaking softly around him, trying to draw him back. But he does not eat. He does not smile. His soul drifts far from theirs.
Mother (softly, to herself): Please... come back to us.
INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
The television flickers. At first static. Then—all at once—the screen clears. Phones, tablets, radios, even abandoned billboards light up with the same signal across the world.
Narration: Every device. Every frequency. Every screen. One voice. One message.
A figure cloaked in light appears—not fully human, not fully machine. Its voice is calm, resonant, neither male nor female.
Voice (through screens): Hear this. From the heavens, guidance shall descend. The demons are not finished. Their return is certain. Yet you are not without hope.
Families lean forward, silent, eyes wide.
Voice: Among you, one hundred shall be chosen. Not by power. Not by wealth. Not by nation. But by the will of what must be done. You will stand against the darkness.
Gasps ripple across the world. Murmurs spread, disbelief sharp as knives.
Civilian 1: A hundred people? Against millions of demons? That's suicide!
Civilian 2: They're mocking us! A cruel joke!
Civilian 3 (whispering): Or maybe... maybe this really is God's will.
Arven stares at the screen, his lips pressed tightly together, fists trembling.
Narration: Across the world, disbelief spreads like fire. Why one hundred? Why now? Why them?
Voice (final): When the light falls, the path will begin.
The broadcast ends. Screens return to black. Silence floods the room.
EXT. SKYLINE – TWO DAYS LATER – NIGHT
The heavens roar. A pillar of light tears through the clouds, slamming into the earth with a sound like a thousand trumpets. The city freezes. Civilians drop to their knees. Soldiers raise weapons. Scientists shout into recorders.
When the light clears—a man stands within it.
Narration: From heaven, he descends.
He is tall, cloaked in white. His eyes burn gold. His presence bends the air itself. Wings glow faintly behind his shoulders, fading as he steps forward—a man among mortals, yet more than mortal.
Gabriel: Fear not. I am Gabriel. You may call me... Mr. Gabriel.
Whispers rush through the crowd. Some kneel. Others laugh bitterly.
Civilian 1 (mocking): Gabriel? The angel? Where were you when our families burned? When demons ate our children?
Civilian 2 (angry): If God sent you, then why did He let millions die? Why now?!
Gabriel stands silently, letting their cries pierce the air. His golden eyes remain calm.
Gabriel (firmly): Your pain is not unseen. Your cries are not unheard. You believe you were abandoned. But you were spared—because you are meant to rise.
The crowd falters. Some tremble. Others mutter in anger. His voice hardens slightly as he raises his hand. The air itself shakes.
Gabriel: Only one hundred may enter. But all of humanity will pay.
The words hang heavy. Silence. Then panic. Shouts, weeping, curses fill the square.
Civilian (shouting): This is madness!
Civilian (weeping): Please, no more trials...
Gabriel's voice cuts through like thunder.
Gabriel (commanding): This is not punishment. This is preparation. Those chosen will bear the burden, and through them, humanity will endure. Doubt me if you must. Curse heaven if you will. The truth does not change.
INT. SAFEHOUSE – SAME TIME
Arven grips the window frame, his knuckles white. His chest burns faintly, a warmth spreading through his veins. His breath grows uneven. His family doesn't notice. His eyes widen as Gabriel's golden gaze seems to meet his—even from miles away.
Narration: The world stands at the edge of something greater. And among them, Arven begins to feel the pull of destiny.
The camera lingers on Arven's face, torn between rage and something new stirring deep inside.
To be continued...